Haunting Ghosts Of The Past
by Red-Cherry-Flowers
Summary: There was no point in denying it; this night would mark the first night he’d be on his own. As far as he knew to this point in time, he was alone. So who would help him now? Starring Charley Bates!
1. Prologue: Charley Bates

**Hi everyone! This is my third Oliver Twist fiction! I really hope that you all enjoy reading this. I got a sudden imagination splurge and I just had to write this before I totally lost everything! At the moment I'm at school and I'm in a double free period (on my own expect for a group of yr 8s and that I don't know!) and I should really be doing my homework but hey, kids need breaks from school!!! **

**Charley Bates is going to be my star character in this again (at the start anyway)! Charley's my favourite so I'm using him again:) I do hope you enjoy this story!! Oh yeah, based on the 2005 Polanski version (it's my favourite)!!! **

**Disclaimer: I have said it once and I will say it again for the hundredth and one time! I OWN NOTING EXPECT THIS PLOT (and any of my own characters I am throw into the crazy mix)!!!! **

Light with their fingers and quick on their feet…the number one pickpocket rule, or so Fagin had told them.

Quick and sharp, like a striking snake, never hesitate. Follow the Artful Dodger, he'd led you on. But who would lead Charley Bates on now?

They were all gone. He had barely got away, one policeman's fingertips had just brushed his coat but he had got away and as for the others...Charley did not know…

So he ran, as fast and far as he could…hoping that his past would disappear behind him…but Charley learns quickly, the further you run does not make old ghosts go away…they just come back to haunt you...

**Hmmm, very short I know, but it's a start!! Please, please review for me!!!**


	2. Now Running All Alone

**Chapter 2!! I couldn't leave chapter one where it was!!!! Hahaha!! I've based the characters to how they are in the 2005 movie version! I think Lewis Chase did a brilliant job at portraying Charley and Harry Eden was the perfect Dodger:) Anyways, please, please review for me friends!!! oxox**

Any wanderers in the alleys that night would be shuttered aside in exclamation as a pale young teenager ran past them, followed by a flurry of policemen and it was for certain none wanted to get involved with the police. Not in this day and age.

The young teen was bolting, running for his life; his dark red hat was tight on his brown hair, a dark neck handkerchief around his neck, his navy blue coat flying out behind him…

Charley Bates ran, as fast as he could. He was good at running, he had to be; he was a pickpocket. The dirty grey brick walls of the alleyways rose up around him, and foggy night's air was thick around him and his breath was coming in misty gasps.

He had only just got away. The Traps had pushed their way into Toby Crackpot's place after Sykes had taken Oliver with him. One glance at the look on Fagin's face told him they had to get out, now.

But they had been too slow. Toby had been pulling the floorboards up from the secret passage under the house when the front floor slammed open had hundreds of policemen thundered into the house.

There was so much chaos and shouting and all he could hear was Fagin screaming his head off, he ducked under a clothed table. He was the lucky one, nobody saw him and he heard the scuffling around above him and that was when he spotted it. The back door that led out into the open alleys from Toby's place, just like the one they had back at Fagin's house.

Of course! Why hadn't they thought of that before!!

Throwing all caution to the wind he shot out from under the table and he heard a cry of "Ere! There's another! Get him!" It seemed that all running during his jobs had earned him good at that moment. For a fear filled moment he felt the tips of a hand brush against the back of his coat but he was too fast and all in one movement he wrenched open the back door and slammed it behind him and pushed his body against it to try and prevent the Traps from getting through.

The door knob from the other side twisted and clattered around furiously. The Traps were trying to open the door. He bolted from the wood as the door burst open and he cried cries of "Don't let him get away!" "Catch him!" "After that boy!" He sprinted faster then he ever had in his life, occasionally slipping on the wet mud the rain from the night had produced.

The Traps were right behind him as he twisted and turned through the alleys, his feet hitting the dirty and muddy floor as mud splattered up around his feet reaching up to his knees. The Traps didn't stand a chance; he'd lived on theses streets all his life, he knew them well.

Soon, their cries and the sounds of the racing feet behind him slowly departed. He'd done it; he'd outrun them! He slowed his run to a slow jog before coming to a complete stand still. He leaned against the wall and bent over slightly clutching his stomach; now that he had stopped he could feel a pain beginning to develop in his side.

He gasped for breathe; the cold winter air stung his throat and lungs. It took a moment for his mind to stop racing and he listened very carefully for a moment for any sounds.

Nothing, he was alone, completely alone.

He straightened up a little and leaned his head against the wall. He was safe, for now. But he knew he couldn't stay here anymore, the Traps had got a look at him, they'd recognize him in an instant. He knew what he'd have to do; he'd have to leave London, at least for a while.

But what about the others? What would happen to Fagin? And Dodger? And Nicky? And Toby? Had any of them got away as well? He didn't think so, not that he didn't hope. If they _had_ been taken, Charley knew exactly what would happen to them, Fagin had drilled it into them so many times when he gave them lectures on being caught; prison or most likely the gallows.

Then there were those rumors about the horrible things they did to the prisoners in the prisons; the whipping and the slave labor.

The thought made him shiver and his stomach twist; he knew how Fagin hated the Old Bailey. He wouldn't go quietly. And what about Dodger? Charley didn't even want to think what they might do to his best friend. Would they hang him too? They had been after Dodger for a very long time, he was one of the best pickpockets in all of London, and they'd want to put on a good and enjoyable show to prove they had caught the famous Artful Dodger.

The thought made Charley sick.

He turned his gaze towards the continuation of the alleyway he was in. It was foggy so he couldn't see the end. Charley had no idea where it would take him, everything was too misty; tonight it all looked to same to the thirteen-year-old but he had to follow it if he wanted to survive this night.

There was no point in denying it; this night would mark the first night he'd be on his own. As far as he knew to this point in time, he was alone. So who would help him now?

**I hope you all liked it!! I have a few ideas of where I might take this story but I don't know when the next update will be, reality and schoolwork at now getting in the way. Anyways, please, please review**


	3. Passage Behind A Wall

**Hello everyone! Thank-you to Charlene Bates for reviewing both chapters one and two!!!! I owe you for this chapter:) And to those of you who had not reviewed, SHAME ON YOU!!**

**Nah, only kidding! But come on guys I know you all can do better then that! Please, please review for me. Please, pretty please???? With a cherry on top???**

**BTW: I'd like to also thank you so much Charlene Bates for letting me know that last chapter I made an error with a character name, instead of having Toby Crackit, I had Toby Crackpot!!! I feel ashamed!!! It sounds funny though, lol! Thanks Charlene!!! **

The morning air was bleak and smelled strongly of rain. London had received a right bit of rain the night before, along with thunder and lightening. The mist from the previous night had lifted a little but the streets were still quiet for this time in the morning, even in the poorer and dirtier regions of London.

A completely drenched and cold Charley Bates made his way through the quiet and unusually empty streets. His eyes darted this way and that, moving in the shadows. The Traps would still properly be looking for him and he didn't want to make too much of an entrance. Those of the men and women already drinking and talking through the alleyways ignored him as he silently and discreetly past them.

He traveled through one more street until he stopped in the shadows of a corner, his eyes glued on an old blue faded door to the right of him. Mist came from his lips as he sighed. If there _was_ one person he had left to turn to, although he was not completely sure that she'd help him…

Glancing cautiously around one more time he moved towards the faded blue door to his right. He knocked against the chipped wood and waited for the door to open. It didn't. He knocked again, more loudly this time and still the same result.

Charley glanced around nervously before he raised his fist to knock again when a voice from inside made him jump, "Keep ya bloody hair on, I'm coming!"

Charley heard the click of a lock on the other side as the door was swung open by a middle aged woman dressed in a red and orange dress the was too small for her. Her black hair was in tangles and her painted face and lips were messy and her corset was so tight her cleavage was defiantly eye catching. Her expression turned to confusion for a moment when she served Charley, who looked like a drowned cat.

She leaned against the door frame and raised an eye brow at Charley saying, "aren't ya a bit young to be here? Well, you better pay well, my girls don't come cheap."

"I'm looking for someone," said Charley, trying to stop his teeth chattering, "I was wondering if she was here."

"Oh really?" said the woman straightening up and folding her arms, "who?"

"Her name's Bet," said Charley looking up at the woman, "she a friend of mine."

The woman stared at Charley for a moment before smirking, "just a friend huh?"

Charley scowled and rolled his eyes, "It's nothing like that."

"Hm," still smirking, the woman moved aside for Charley to enter the house. Inside was dark as the woman closed the door behind him. She led him down a small hallway and then stopped at one door. She knocked and called, "Bet! Here's a boy here to see ya!"

Charley looked from the woman to the door. Shuffling could be heard from inside and he heard the familiar voice, "Hang on! I swear if it's you Frank again, I told ya the other night, I've had enough of ya! You can never put it in the right place!"

Despite the situation Charley couldn't help find her comments amusing and silently started to snicker from behind the woman at Bet's words. The door swung open and Bet's annoyed expression dropped when she saw the mistress of the house and Charley. Her blonde hair was straight and hung down to her shoulders as usual and she had a thin and ragged shawl wrapped around her tight fitted corset.

"Charley!" she exclaimed, "whatcha doing here?! You look like someone tried to drown ya!"

Charley eyes light up and unable to suppress his joy at being so glad to see her, he rushed forward and threw his arms around her waist. Finally! A familiar face!

"Have you heard?!" cried Charley loudly, "The Traps have got in on Fagin!"

What?!" gasped Bet as she pushed the boy away from her and grabbed his shoulders, "what's happened?!"

Charley opened his mouth to answer but suddenly stopped. He turned to see the mistress of the house, whom he had forgotten all together at seeing Bet, was standing right behind them, watching curiously. He pushed Bet into the room and slammed the door in the mistresses' face.

"We were at Toby's," whispered Charley, "and they followed Bulls Eye and found us!"

"Sykes' dog!" exclaimed Bet loudly, "I thought he'd gone!"

Charley shook his head, "he came back! And the last thing I know he took Oliver onto the roof and the Traps got into the place. And here's something else!"

"What?!" said Bet, her eyes wide and fearful, "what is it?!"

"Nancy," said Charley carefully, knowing how close the two girls were, "Bet, he _murdered_ her!"

Bet's reaction was something Charley did not expect. Her hands dropped from his shoulders and they became limp at her sides. She bit her lip and slowly nodded her head and backing away from the boy. Charley too a step back in confusion.

"Bet?"

"I know."

"What?!"

"I know; I was there."

Charley eyes widened and all remaining colour drained from his face. Something in his head finally clicked.

"The Cronical," he whispered staring at Bet, who remained silent with tears in her eyes, "it was _you_."

The silence in the room dragged on until Bet said, "Ay, it was me who found Nancy. I knew who had done it and when I called for help they asked me who and I said William Sykes."

Charley stared at Bet. It had been shocking enough that Nancy had told on them and told the Traps where Oliver was but for Bet to dib in Bill Sykes…?

"What was I to do Charley?!" cried Bet suddenly glaring at Charley, "I couldn't stand by and let him get away with it! What would you have done?!"

What _would_ he have done? Charley lowered his eyes as he too realized if Bill had done the same to him, if Bill had murdered Dodger back at Toby's when Dodger had thrown all caution to the wind and attacked Sykes, he would too have told the police what had happened. He would have peached just like Nancy…

"I know why you're here," said Bet, her glare dropping; she sounded more miserable then he had ever heard her, "I know why and I can't help ya."

Charley raised his eyes again and he stared at her pleadingly, "Please Bet, _please_. I dunno what I'm going to do. Where'm I going to go?!"

"Ya can't stay here that for sure," said Bet, "get out of London."

"That won't help, I was born here, I got no where to go to," said Charley starting to feel desperate. _Why_ had he hoped that Bet would help him? She was in the same situation as he was, except she had somewhere to stay.

"I-" started Bet when a voice on the other side of the door interrupted her. It was official sounding and gentlemen-like and it sent a quire of fear through both criminals.

"This way gentlemen. He'll be in one of these rooms, as the lady said!"

The sound of doors opening and closing could be heard from the other side, Charley backed away from the door as Bet gasped.

"He said the name Fagin," they heard the mistress' voice, "I will get some pay for this I presume?"

"It's all taken care of madam," said another voice.

Oh no, oh no, oh _no_! Charley grabbed hold of Bet's skirt and clutched it in her fist, "please don't let them have me! Bet _please_!"

Bet bit her red painted bottom lip before she pulled herself free from Charley's grip. He glanced over his shoulder at the door, the voices were coming nearer. He turned sharply when he heard the sound of a chain rattling and his jaw dropped.

"What the-!"

Bet had pulled a section of the wall away and behind it was a dark passage way. Not even Fagin had something like this! Or at least as far as he knew.

It was secured together by two chains, attached to a single chain that Bet was holding in her hands. She wrapped it securely around a leg of the bed next to the wall.

She rushed to the set of draws in the corner and pulled them open quickly and was muttering to herself. She emptied the contents of the first two draws to the ground. She rummaged through the fillings but did not find what she was looking for as she pulled open the third draw and took a nervous and quick glance at the door.

"What are ya doing?" asked Charley as he too took glanced at the door.

He heard the mistress' voice, "In that room down there sirs. The girl's name is Bet. I'll just get the key."

"Bet!" said Charley purely terrified now, "Bet there co-"

He felt someone suddenly grabbed his hand and he was being pulled towards the opening in the wall. Bet shoved him roughly into the passage and stuffed a piece of parchment into his hand saying quick and urgent, her voice coming in gasps.

"There is a man living in a small cottage just south of London. His name is on the paper, he's a friend of Fagin's," Charley watched as she untied the chain from around the bed's leg, "get yourself here, past Old Jim, you'll find him. And don't hang about, the mistress knows about this passage."

The sound of keys jiggling outside the door could be heard and Bet scrabbled to her feet, the chain in her hands, "Go, and don't worry ya about me."

"You can't stay here!" cried Charley his eyes widening, "you-"

Bet suddenly grabbed him by his wet coat, "Remember this, the Traps aren't the ones after ya!"

"Whatcha mean?!" asked Charley staring at her pale face as her red lips quivered, "of course the Traps-"

"Follow the passage and past Old Jim," Bet's voice spoke over him as she pushed him back further into the passage, "Goodbye Charley."

"No! Bet!" the sound of the room's door's lock clicking and as Charley jumped forward to pull the girl into the passage. But it was too late.

Bet let the chain in her hands go and the wall swung towards him, shutting him into darkness, resulting in him running straight into the wall; the forces threw him backwards onto the floor.

He lay here in the silence and darkness for a moment until he heard Bet's screams, "No! No! Let me go! Charley run! Go! Run!"

The Traps! Charley gasped and scrabbled to his feet in the darkness. The floor was moist and muddy and he slipped slightly as he staggered from the floor. He stretched out his hands; the parchment that Bet had given him was tight in his fist.

He blindly felt along the wall his for his way in the darkness, trying to hurry as fast as he could, tripping and staggering sometimes on the uneven earth, the cold brick wall of the passage way his only light to the end.


	4. The Cart of Suprises

**Hi everyone! Sorry for the long and slow update! I've been over my head in school work and I've been working on another one of my stores. But I'm back with the next chapter! A big hug and thank-you to Charlene Bates! If it weren't for you I would never have continued with this story! I am truly grateful for your reviews:) **

**Well not much more to say so on with the show!! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: sighs…we all know it…I DON"T OWN ANYTHING…well expect the storyline maybe…**

Although hidden behind a cloud the sun was finally in the sky for the new day. The London market was now in full swing, having had its daily routine of early morning preparation and now all types of citizens of the famous English city were chiming in to inspect the offering, hustling and bustling among the noise. The coaches and the horses' hooves cluttered along the cobblestone road and bells rang. In the distance a joyful tune played on instruments could be heard.

Stale owners were busy gaining buys from customers, eager to out bid their neighbor at the best prices and quality. Adults and their children moved among the busy and crowded market inspecting and buying goods they needed. Thefts and other criminals blended their way in amongst the crowd going about their daily deceitful business.

"Buy ya daily news!" called a paper boy into the crowd, "'ere buy ya daily news! Two pennies a paper!"

An older gentleman approached the paper boy and offered him the right amount of money, as the gentlemen took the paper the boy replied in loud enthusiasm, "Thank-you sir!"

The well respected gentlemen took his daily paper and after passing Mr. Heeler's ham and bread store he opened up the front page of the _London Daily_ to be met by a headline of, _"Police triumphant over Dangerous Criminals!"_

The gentlemen, taking a sudden interest in the front page article, absorbed himself into the printed words,

_Last night the London police learned of information about the missing orphan boy named Oliver Twist. The kidnapper, Fagin, a well known criminal among the lower classes in London, was last night captured along with his group of young thieves, among them Jack Dawkins, who goes by the name of the Artful Dodger to his associates. _

_Supported heavily by an angry group the theft were put upon by the citizens of London, resulting in an outbreak of violence when the group was pulled from the house, in which one of the boys was trampled to death. This unexpected death of the pickpocket was not the fault of the London police. However the journalist has learnt that there was one escape by one of the picketpocketing group and police are doing all they can to find the escapee._

_Fagin was found after the London police were lead to a hideout by William Sykes' dog, named Bulls-eye. After abandoning Fagin, Sykes, who was wanted for the murder of a young woman, took Oliver Twist and tried to escape but the London police were successful at his failure by an accidental hanging. _

_The London Police released a notice this morning dating the hanging of Fagin and Jack Dawkins for their crimes against the King, while the other young thieves will be given the punishment of transportation until they are of the age of twenty-one._

The gentlemen looked up from the article and frowned slightly. Looking around he called softly, "Oliver!"

A small blonde haired boy in fashionably neat and fancy clothes looked up from the stale of books. The gentlemen smiled, just as he thought Oliver would do. Go straight to the books. The small boy hurried to the gentlemen's side, "Yes sir?"

"I was wondering," said the gentlemen looking around carefully for ears droppers, "have you heard the fates of Fagin and the Artful Dodger?"

Suddenly Oliver's glowing face faded a little as he said, "I have sir. It's awful business."

"Indeed it is," agreed the gentlemen

"Sir…" began Oliver, "Sir, I was wondering…"

"Yes my boy?"

"Would…would be alright if I could visit Fagin before he is sent away? He was ever so kind to me when he took me in, I could never thank him enough."

The gentlemen raised his eyebrows in shock, "Are you sure Oliver? Would that be wise?"

"Oh, I only wish sir to say goodbye to him, to say thank-you for all his kindness and that I will never forget it. He should know sir, he believes that the biggest sin in the world in ingratitude, and…I wouldn't want him to leave this earth thinking I was ungrateful to him…"

The gentlemen pounded for a moment, thinking about whether it would be a wise decision to expose Oliver to the old man who had given him so much terror and had even planned Oliver's murder with William Sykes. In the end, he came to a conclusion, "alright then Oliver, I permit you to see Fagin one more time."

Oliver gave the gentlemen a small, but sad smile, "Thank-you sir."

After the gentlemen tucked the newspaper under his arm and with that said, Oliver took Mr. Brownlow's hand and together they proceeded through the London market together.

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Charley was certain he must have been born in summer; winter had never been kind to him. Every year he had to live through colds and fevers which for some reason Dodger and Fagin were immune from catching from him. He hated it; Fagin would make him stay inside and get better while Dodger was out picking pockets and having all the fun.

That was the new problem that Charley was in counted with; a bad cold. The blood in his head was pounding in his ears, his throat was swollen and terribly scratchy, his body felt hot and mucky and he needed something to eat; he was starving. The rain from the pervious night had caused him to develop a cold.

But the confusion at Bet's place was what was on Charley's mind. He had stumbled his way out of the small passage way to come out at the back of London. He didn't understand why Bet had sent him here or what the "Old Jim" was, he'd never heard of it before. She had told him to find an old friend of Fagin's. Charley pulled the small piece of parchment Bet had given him out of his blue coat. There was a name written on the paper, the black ink faded slightly but Charley couldn't read, so he had no idea what name stood on the parchment.

Charley kicked at the mud angrily. He hated this, he really did! He had nowhere to lodge, no idea what to do next, nothing but a name on a parchment which he couldn't read and something called "Old Jim" which who or what he didn't know either. He was sick, alone, cold, hungry, and he wanted this all to be over.

Maybe he should just throw himself to the Traps now and save himself the trouble of all of this, hopefully they would put him in a cell with his friends.

No, he told himself firmly, that's pathetically stupid!

The boy's angrily thoughts were interrupted by a rattling noise coming from behind him and he jumped out the way just in time as an old cart rattled past him leading out of the big city and the driver yelled at him, "Ek! Keep off the bloody road ya little ump, I'll run ya through next time!"

A sudden idea struck Charley, not caring about the driver's death threat or what he was feeling at the moment he ran after the cart as fast as he could. His feet pounded the muddy ground and he felt himself begin to get tried, whether from his sudden sickness or from no sleep the last two previous nights he didn't care. He just felt the sudden need to get onto that cart.

He was getting nearer, if only he could reach the back of the cart. Just a little bit further…

The cart came to a sudden stop and Charley, unprepared for it, didn't have time to stop running and he was thrown head first into the cart when he legs catch the back of the cart. He landed on a bundle of blankets and something _soft_…

There was a huffing noise from under him and slightly confused Charley was physically thrown off the bundle of blankets from a strong force. He landed on the cart's wooden surface and just as he sat up straight to see his attacker under the blankets the cart sprung into life again sending Charley down again with a thud.

"Whatcha think ya doing?" whispered an angry voice in Charley's ear. It took a moment for Charley to realize what was happening. Looking up he met by a dirty tanned face. Dirty blonde curls hung around the face. Something was triggered in Charley at seeing the face, as if he had seen it before…

"I asked ya a question!" snapped the girl quietly, "why'd ya go jumping on me like that for?!"

Charley recovered his voice and was surprised by how scratchy his voice sounded, "I didn't know!"

The girl glared at him, her blue eyes were bright and wide. Charley stared at her for a moment. Why did she look so _familiar_…?!

"What?!" the girl snapped, Charley pulled himself out of his state.

"Nothing," he muttered, looking back at the driver of the cart who was beginning to sing merrily and loud as the cart bumped and lunched against the uneven ground.

"So," said the girl suddenly, a smirk coming onto her face, "whatcha doing catching a ride like this?"

Charley looked back at her and narrowed his eyes, "that aren't any of ya business."

"Ooooo," said the girl quietly, "very touchy aren't we?"

There was a moment of silence which Charley chose to ignore the girl, who was watching him carefully for a moment. She spoke again, "where ya headed?"

Charley turned his eyes back to her. She looked about a year or two younger then him, her face was innocent and she was a bit alright looking too Charley thought. Her blonde hair was dirty as was her face and hands. Her boots were raged and old and her dress was muddy along the bottom and there were large tears here and there. Charley had enough experience from his life on the streets and with the company of Fagin to know this was no well respected girl.

"Someplace called the Old Jim," said Charley carefully. Surely a girl like her would not give him into the Traps? She didn't look much in a better condition then he did.

"The Old Jim?" said the girl suddenly looking interested, "whatcha want there?"

"You know of it?" said Charley in surprise. Maybe she could be more of a help to him then he originally thought.

"Course I know of it," said the girl rolling her eyes, "me mother works there. I've lived in the pub all me life!"

A pub? Charley had never heard of a pub called the Old Jim. Bet obviously knew about it, he wondered why in all this time he had known her she had never mentioned it. Besides, it was not common to find a pub on a traveling road, perhaps an inn, but not a pub.

"Yeah," continued the girl, "me and me mother live a little way from there. Ya should come and see us."

"Er…"

"The pub's alright, it's pretty quiet around these parts, people like the London air better, dunno why, it's all stuffy and smoky."

"I like London," argued Charley, "at least there's some life rather then out here," he gestured to the green field around them, "it's boring here."

"Speak for yaself," muttered the girl under her breath. There was a couple more moments of silence expect for the cart driver who was starting to sing merrily, "O' Come ya Ladies" for the third time over.

"Who are ya on the run from?" the girl asked suddenly. Charley snapped his head around to look at her, his stomach dropped a few inches as a fear spread through him. Maybe it had been a mistake to tell her where he was planning on heading. The girl was watching him intensely; her blue eyes were burning accusing holes through his face.

"I aren't on the run from anyone," said Charley calmly, guarding his voice and words carefully. But the girl wasn't fooled, she snorted saying, "right and if your not on the run then I'm a turkey."

"Well then ya have a very good description of yaself," shot back Charley, looking away from her again. Maybe he should have just waited for the next cart…

"I know ya a theft!" the girl rolled her eyes, "My brother's a pickpocket, he left to go to London when I was very young, but I still remember him. An old man came and got him from our house and the first thing he did was hand my brother a coat! It was kinda the same kind of coat like ya got; with pockets and all."

A worried feeling settled in Charley at the girl's words; was he that recognizable as a criminal? Was a plain stranger able to just tell he was a theft?

"Don't worry," said the girl, "I aren't going to tell no one! I fact, there's no one out here to really tell! Anyway, now that that's sorted, my name's Tiffany. What's yours?"

Charley remained silent and hesitated. Should be exchange his name? Could this girl maybe be a spy? After all, the Traps had seen his face; maybe they had followed him and sent this girl to trap him? No, that wouldn't work. They wouldn't know where he had been, nevertheless, Charley decided it would be best to play along and lie.

"Tommy," he replied, trying to sound as honest and relaxed as possible. The girl watched him suspiciously for a moment before saying, "right, Tommy…"

"So," said Charley directing the subject away from himself, "whatcha brother do in London?"

"I told ya," replied the girl, "I dunno really, he's a pickpocket, but he's really good, famous he is! And he's, well, he no older then you I reckon."

"Famous ay? What's he's name?"

"I can't tell that that."

"Why not?"

"Cos I can't."

"I'm a pickpocket too remember, I aren't going to peach on him! I might know him."

The girl was silent for a moment before saying quietly, "He's name's Jack."

"Jack?"

"Yeah."

The silence returned for a moment longer before Charley broke it, "I have a friend called Jack."

"Really?"

Charley nodded slowly.

"Why's he not with you?"

Charley stared at the wooden planks on the cart's floor. He felt his stomach seize again but he didn't trust himself to open his mouth, so he remained silent on the subject of Dodger. The girl must have sensed his resistance to talk because she didn't push the subject.

Charley tried a different subject, "What were ya doing in London? I thought ya said ya hated the city."

"Me and me mother heard some news. I came here as soon as I could to see if it were true."

Thankful for something else to talk about Charley sized at the topic, "what sorta news?"

"About my brother, something bad happened to him last night."

"Something like what?"

"He and his gang were caught last night. The papers say he was catch up in some murder and kidnapping mess, I knew this would happen! I've always said to mother bout London-"

Then something clicked in Charley's mind and he turned sharply to face the girl, "Wait!"

"Huh?"

"Your brother, what about a murder and kidnapping?!"

"One paper said something about a boy named Oliver Twist-"

"_Oliver Twist?!_"

"Yeah-" started Tiffany but Charley, his jaw open in astonishment was too shocked and impatient to even listen to her, demanded "Whatcha say ya name was?"

"Tiffany," the girl stared at Charley, her blue eyes narrowing slightly, "Tiffany Dawkins."

The silence that followed the girl's sentence was astonishing. It seemed to Charley that the entire world had lost all sound; even the cart and its driver were not making any noise. Charley stared at Tiffany, much too deep in shock to even remember to breath.

"Tommy? Are you alright? You look like ya gonna haul!"

**Hehehe!! Dun, dun, dun! So dramatic!! Lol! I hope you all enjoyed that. I changed Dodger's criminal sentence to a hanging for this story; it suits my storyline a bit better. I am just horrid to cut the chapter off there aren't I? Hmm, I wonder what's going to happen next?! LOL! **

**Anyways, please, please review!!! **


	5. The Artful's Fate

Hi everyone

**Hi everyone! Sorry this update took so long, I had to gather my thoughts for this chapter. I'm having a bit of a problem at the moment with writer's block so I had to write different sections at different times because I'm just so low on inspiration on everything at the moment; and it's not just with this story, it's with all my others as well! Such a pain!**

**Well, I've finally done this chapter but I don't really know if I'm going to continue with this story, please guys give me some feedback because it is hard to write a story when you're getting very little feedback…anddddd on that note I would like to thank Charlene Bates so, so, so, so much! My friend, your support is the only reason that I decided to put the time to write this chapter! So naturally, this chapter is formally dedicated to you! ) **

**Well, I suppose that's it really from me, so I'll stop talking and let you all read on…enjoy!! )**

The bottom of the chair scraped against the cobblestone of the jail floor. A policeman in a smart black suit, thick brown hair and a thick short beard, leaned heavily back in the old wooden chair. It sighed under the man's weight. He laced his fingers together and placed them on the small rectangular table in front of him. He cleared his throat and leaned forward, resting on his elbows on the surface of the table, his green eyes locked on the boy sitting opposite him.

The boy looked no older then thirteen; slim and even smart looking for a child from the lowly and dirty side of London. His dark hair was flat on his head and his face was a slightly browner shade then his associates but for a common boy he was surprisingly good looking with obvious blue eyes.

Most criminal that came through the jails were timid after a while; as in this case, the old man was developing into a loony and the other boys that were brought in with him were now quiet after screaming the house down. Yet, this boy, even thought he no longer yelled to be let out or struggled against an authority figure's grip he still attained a strange pride that the others seemed not to posses.

The policeman watched the boy while the boy stared right back neither scared nor intimidated. Neither the boy nor man moved or made a sound for a moment until the policeman's clothed shoulders slumped forward a little as he leaned further across the table at the boy. The boy sat still and continued to stare at the man as if a frozen colour statue.

"What's your name?" the policeman's deep voice was kind enough but the boy's stare hardened. The boy remained silent and the police officer sighed in what seemed like both annoyance and frustration at the boy's loss of tongue.

"You are an associate of Fagin, the old man down there," the officer pointed towards the door, the boy's blue eyes flicked to the wood before back to the man's face, "which means you are somehow involved in criminal activity that is against the law set by the King."

The policeman was, again, met by silence. He reached inside his coat and pulled out a sheet of parchment, he unfolded it and pushed it across the table towards the boy. The boy moved his blue eyes to inspect the sketch on the parchment. Something sinister flashed across the young face as if he was reliving a disturbing memory at seeing the sketch, before it went blank again.

"You want to know who that is?" the officer asked and without waiting for an answer he continued, "he beat a young woman to death a few nights ago and strangely that less then moments before his accident you were in his company. What do you have to say to that?"

Obviously the silence from the young teen gave the man his answer. The boy swallowed with what seemed like difficulty as he stared at the black sketched face of a man he'd known and idolized for many years.

The suddenly jiggling of keys on the other side of the door brought the outside of reality to the boy who hesitantly moved his eye sight from the sketch and the policeman turned around in his chair as the door opened and another man in uniform, more older with fuzzy white hair, appeared through the half open door and entered the small room. He stole a glance at the boy but without saying anything gave another piece of parchment to the policeman.

"Ah thank you Geoff," he said as the older policeman nodded and then left the room and closing the door behind him. The set of keys jiggled again until a steady and loud click was heard. The silence in the small room returned as the boy now stared at the wooden table top; the policeman's eyes were on the parchment he was holding in his hand, his eyes narrowed slightly in thought. The sound of the older officer's shoes was heard fading into the distance down the corridor of the jail when the policeman spoke again.

"It seems one of your associates has broken the silence." The boy's eyes snapped up from the table top to the man's face and for the first time since the boy had been taken from his cells for interrogation he showed the first sign of real emotion; in this case he looked slightly panic, uneasy.

"It says here that your name is…" the police officer skimmed the parchment with his finger as if he was searching hard, but he suddenly stopped and frowned as if in confusion, "…Charley Bates? Is this correct?" The policeman looked over the top of the parchment at the boy.

The boy's jaw stayed shut tight but there was a new aroma about him now; he looked a little…surprised. The boy stayed very still for a moment, his head lowered to look at the man's sketched face before he only raised his blue eyes to look at the man, before giving a small nod.

"Then that boy that managed to escape," said the man placing the parchment down onto the table, "was that Jack Dawkins?"

The boy stared at the man. His outside expression gave away nothing but what the policeman did know was that under the table the boy was gripping his brown coat with such a tight hold that his knuckles were turning white and his hands were shaking.

Finally, the boy nodded slowly.

"A good friend of yours is he?" said the policeman, "your partner, is he?"

The policeman watched in some satisfaction as the boy's jaw tightened that would only come when one clutched their teeth together hard; he would soon break.

"Look here Charley," the police officer leaned forward, his kind tone suddenly replaced by a harsh one and the lines on his face drew together angrily, "God help me now but I must speak my mind. I am tired of this silence and I am tired of chasing after little wrenched thieves like yourself; we can do this the easy way or the difficult way."

The boy still said nothing so the officer continued, "The easy way would be to tell us where Dawkins is hiding or the hard way will be you will force to tell us, do I make myself clear? Now, for the last time, where is Jack Dawkins?"

The boy gave the same answer he had been giving since the interrogation had begun; a complete silence. A few moments passed, the police officer rose an thick eye brow at the boy and when still not a sound escaped the young teen's mouth the officer suddenly slammed his palms down onto the surface of the table between them in anger making the boy jump in surprise. He pushed his chair out from under him and walked heavily towards the boy, a mad look in his eyes.

The boy knew what would happening, a sudden panic swept and froze in his chest, he was trapped, he needed out; and there was only one way for it to be done. Without warning, the boy attacked.

He threw himself from the chair at the man in one swift movement that the man yelled out in shock and tumbled backwards. A sudden freedom spring from the boy, this was his chance to escape, he couldn't let it slip. Just as he raised a fist to smack down onto the officer's face a sudden blow to the back of his head made a sound like fireworks explode into boy's head in conjunction with yelling in his ears before everything went black.

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"He says he's name is Charley Bates, but I don't believe him."

"The others say that's his name."

"Oh no, this is Dawkins, I'm sure of it."

"You can't know that."

"I do. He looked rightly surprised when I told him his friends had said his name was Bates."

"One of the others will give us the truth, they will confess."

"This _is_ a confession Will, and the confession says the boy's name is Charley Bates."

"No I'm with Will, this is Jack Dawkins."

"Maybe treat the boy kindly, he might speak then."

"I did, but he said nothing. Spoke not a single word."

"Maybe he's dumb."

"No, he's the one that yelled for help back at that house and he had been yelling bloody murder with them others since we brought them in. He knows English."

"Maybe we can try to get the old man to speak, tell him we'll set him free if he speaks."

A round of laughter ruffled the air in answer.

"We need to find someone who knows this boy. Go back to where they lived and ask around would ya? There's bound to be someone who'll talk; they'll not all die for the old man."

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"Sentence to hanging!" called the magistrate, Mr. Fang, slamming his wooden hammer down, sending a chilling ring through the large court room, "next case!"

"But I didn't do it!" screamed the girl, struggling, her eyes were wide and terrified, as she was pulled from the front of the magistrates by two policeman, "I never! I wouldn't, please, please, no! My babies, they'll die, please!"

The Artful Dodger was pulled aside by an officer that gripped his arm tightly as the crying and struggling girl was pulled past. When he and the others were brought in here that cold last night they had been like that; biting, kicking, pushing, pulling; anything to try and escape, anything. But it had been useless, and it was useless now. Dodger stared at her being pulled down the corridor towards the cells behind the court house. He vaguely wondered whether he'd receive the same sentence as he was roughly pulled towards the magistrates.

A normal person would hope they wouldn't, but Dodger couldn't see the hope for him. Pretending to be his best friend didn't help matters either; Charley had been no less of a criminal then him. Although it did confuse and shock him that the other boys did such a thing. He guessed they had not told on themselves but telling the officers that Dodger was Charley, they obviously thought he might get a lesser sentence, and properly guessed they would get lesser sentences too if they provided information.

There it was again; that hope. Hope had once tasted so sweet to Dodger; he had once lived with it, depended on it. But now, it tasted like burnt ash, he no longer held any hope which was why he no longer fought, had he really once thought they would make it through? Had that only been merely a few days ago? How time flies when one's days are numbered.

"What's next?" called Mr. Fang

Where was the hope in this court house? It was definitely not those magistrates staring down at him…

"This boy sir," said the officer who was still gripping Dodger tightly.

Hope was definitely not with Fagin, who he could hear crying and calling out madly three cells away since they had arrived here…

"What's he being tried with?"

Hope was definitely not with old friends, they had all been sentenced to either transportation or hard labor from what he heard, or were dead. And Charley, well, he had no idea were his friend was…

"Thieving Mr. Fang," the officer, "we think he might be the Artful Dodger."

And it was definitely not with himself.

This was met by a sudden murmur through the courtroom and despite the situation Dodger smirked. The Artful Dodger; it was like a secret identity for him, to hide away Jack Dawkins as if he no longer existed because Jack Dawkins was human. He had emotions, he failed and it didn't go unnoticed to Dodger how he was becoming more like Jack Dawkins every day.

"The Artful Dodger?" said another magistrate in eager surprise, "is this true, boy?"

Dodger looked up at the man. He sat here; they all sat there, staring at him like he was some amazing caged animal they could prod, and even when he was angry and sick of them he could not attack them. The invisible bars that only he could see were in front of Dodger eyes, if he just reached out a hand he'd be sure to feel the cold steel against his fingers…

"No," answered Dodger his tone holding no emotion, "my name is Charley Bates."

"Your graciousness," said another officer to Dodger's right. Dodger turned his head and with a spring of hatred he recognized the man who had interrogated him the other night and verily got nothing but a wrong name.

"I have a witness to prove this boy is not who he says he is," the gentlemen turned his eyes to Dodger and they bored heavily into his face. When the officer's words slowly sunk into Dodger he felt his stomach disappear, his mouth go dry, but he carefully kept his posture, his expression still blank and his head held high. Hope might not be with him any longer but he still had pride…

"Alright," said Mr. Fang impatiently, "swear the witness!"

A young woman moved forward, her boots clicked slightly on the marble door. He turned his eyes from the police officer to the woman and his eyes widened in realization and horror. His limps froze and his entire body become numb, he was suddenly floating under water, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't hear, he couldn't go anything, he couldn't even feel the menacing grip of the officer holding his arm.

"Do you swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth so help you God?"

"Yes."

Dodger recognized this woman and it was clear by the way she was looking at him she knew him too. She was a bar maid down at the Three Cripes and had been one for as long as Dodger could remember. He had spoken to her a few times in the past too.

"Melanie," said the officer from the night before, "is this boy Charley Bates?"

Dodger stared at the young woman; he tried to make his expression most meaningful as he could manage without giving himself away in front of an entire court. The young woman was watching Dodger but whether she could interrupt his silent meaning she did not show it.

The woman gave a small shake of her head, her limp hair moving side-to-side, "No."

Dodger swallowed and let out a silent shaky breath from his lips. This was not good…

"Are you sure," said the officer as he strode towards Dodger and seized the boy's jaw in his hand. Dodger struggled and winced at the painful tightness of the man's grip but his face was forced around to look at the woman.

"Take a closer look miss."

Dodger felt his act crumble within him and he couldn't stop it, for the first time in a very long time the fear overpowered him as the woman stared at him. He had no idea of his expression, nor did he care at the moment, the only thought that was running through his head was that he was going to the gallows. It was different now that he could actually _feel_ it, the smell of death; the tension, rather then just know it would happen…it was a lot scarier then Fagin had ever described it…

"Is he Jack Dawkins miss?"

A strange hesitant look came upon the woman's face and she bit her bottom lip, as she stared at Dodger who looked her straight in the eyes. He didn't want to die, not yet, not like this…

"I-I," stuttered the woman. Blind to Dodger the magistrates above him sighed and shifted restlessly in their chair.

"Speak up," cried Mr. Fang, "we haven't got all day!"

"I-I can't be…sure…"

A sudden something shone through Dodger's chest, the size of a peep hole, but still he felt…something, something warm…

"How can you not be sure?" snapped Mr. Fang; he then turned to the officer holding Dodger's face, "Hungle! Stop wasting my time with this rubbish!"

"Miss Melanie," said the officer Hungle, "you swore under an oath of God to tell the truth, and who will help your father if not you. Remember, you provide information and your father will be given a pardon. If you would rather not…"

The woman's eyes widened suddenly in fright and she cried, "no! no! wait!" Dodger recognized her intentions and before his mind could catch up with the panic flooding his being he cried out, his voice muffled from Hungle's grip on his jaw, "No! Don't tell them-!"

The slamming of Mr. Fang's hammer with his shouts of, "Hold your tongue boy!" washed out Dodger's protests.

She raised a shaking arm and pointed a finger at Dodger, her voice shaking too but somehow with confident at the same time, "That's Jack Dawkins, but he's other name is the Artful Dodger. He's one of Fagin's! He's a pickpocket and he's partner's Charley Bates, not him!" The young woman suddenly drew a shaky breath at the end of her account.

"It's not true!" cried Dodger suddenly, "She's lying! She doesn't even know me! Let me go!" A sudden spark of energy ran through him and he pushed and kicked against the two officer's holding him.

"Quiet boy!" yelled a third officer who simple stalked over to a franticly struggling Dodger and punched him across the face.

"Order! Order!" cried Mr. Fang in a irritated voice

A pain speared across Dodger's face as his head snapped sharply to the left and the flash of white light from the impact of the man's punch. His struggling had only stopped for half a moment before tighter grips were restraining movement for his body.

Dodger's felt the world slip from under his feet, he didn't know what to do, his hands went limp, his mind went blank and he was speechless. He was swaying, or was that the world spinning like crazy? What was there to say? Defend himself; how? The woman had given a statement under the bible, why would they listen to a thief that belonged to a gang that they had been after for many years.

"My father?" cried the woman expectably. Her face and eyes were bright with hope.

Mr. Fang barely glanced at her, "leave his name with an officer and his case will be reviewed."

"But you said you'd release him-!"

"Be silent!" cried Mr. Fang glaring at her, "Officer, take the woman outside."

"Wait! Please, my father! You promised my father!"

Dodger watched as the woman was pulled from the court room, her cries for her father echoed in Dodger's head. He couldn't hear anything else besides her screams and his own breathing in his ears. He slowly closed and opened his eyes, the multiple nights of not sleeping over the last few days suddenly hit him like a pill of bricks belting down on it.

"Alright then," said Mr. Fang, "withdraw the information given by those other boys, they'll be tried as full criminals without consideration, and _you_," Mr. Fang glared down at Dodger but Dodger didn't even look at him, a strong acid taste flooded into his mouth, his stomach churned, "you are sentenced to a full hanging for your crimes."

He slammed his hammer down, the sound shot through Dodger like a bullet; it rang in his ears, the aftermath sending a strange numbing sensation through his entire body, as it rang through the whole court room. This was it; the end of the Artful Dodger, and Jack Dawkins didn't need to hear that death hammer to know it.

"Case Dismissed!"

**Please Review!! )**

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